It's Not Easy to Be Boss
by ladyofnite
Summary: When his team is injured, Gibbs ignores his own injuries, worried over his perceived failures. Ducky takes it upon himself to step in, explaining what a true hero is.


It's Not Easy To Be Boss

Walking into the lab might have been one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do. Still, he hadn't become Director of NCIS by taking the easy way out and he wouldn't start now that he'd made it this far. He entered the room, wincing at the loud music blaring out. "Ms. Sciuto?" He called out, not wanting to get too close to the woman busily typing at the computers set up in the middle of the room.

How she heard him over that noise, he would never know, but to his surprise she almost immediately turned around, her lab coat swinging wildly. "Gibbs!" She exclaimed, beaming brightly. "I'm so glad you're- oh."

He tried not to be offended, as her face fell upon seeing him. "Hello, Ms. Sciuto," he greeted her cordially. He didn't even flinch anymore to see the less-than-professional attire she wore underneath her lab coat. When it was important, she could be counted on to present herself professionally enough and that was enough for him, considering the results she got.

"Director Vance!" A remote appeared in her hand and instantly the booming music fell silent. "I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean that it wasn't good to see you too!" She exclaimed, babbling as she tried to recover from her blunder. "I love seeing you- you know, not in a weird way, but you are my boss and I think that a person should generally like to see their boss, and I do! I was just…well…" Her bright green eyes darted to the door he'd just entered as if hoping for another visitor. "I was kind of hoping Gibbs and the others would be back by now. I don't like when they all go out on these missions." She said, twisting her hands anxiously. "Something bad always happens."

She sighed, indulging in her worry again for a moment before brightening again. "Can I help you with something, Director?" She asked. "It's lovely to see you- really! It's not often the Director of NCIS comes to my little ol' lab."

His solemn face had never faltered and her own words suddenly caught up with her. "No!" She exclaimed, hands flying up to cover her face. "Not the team- not Gibbs! They just got back together, something couldn't have happened already! Tell me they're all okay, Director! Tell me! Please!" Her impassioned speech had brought her right up to him and only quick hands kept her from grabbing onto his suit.

"Ms. Sciuto, please stay calm." He said, trying to sound soothing. Unfortunately, it didn't really work as, even with two children, he had never practiced such a tone. "I came down here to inform you that the MRT managed to foil the sleeper cell that became active as a result of the latest case they were working on. Unfortunately in the crossfire with the terrorists, there were several severe injuries amongst Gibbs' team. They were all rushed to Bethesda."

"Oh, I just knew this was going to happen." Abby's eyes instantly filled with tears. "It always does. They're all okay, aren't they?"

"Agents McGee and Dinozzo are both in surgery. Agents David and Gibbs are less seriously injured, but both have been admitted. They were all conscious before being transported to the hospital and the outlooks are all positive. They walked into a trap. Luckily, with the FBI backup that Agent Fornell provided, they were able to take out the ringleaders and contain the situation. I wanted to inform you personally and I will be doing the same with Doctor Mallard right now."

"Ducky!" Abby's eyes flew back to her computers and then she ran into her office to retrieve her jacket. "I'll go, Director, you've already done your duty. Thank you. Ducky and I will be in Bethesda for the remainder of the day."

"Very well." Vance easily conceded the point, not bothering to mention the evidence piled up around the lab. Even if he did manage to keep her there, her concentration would have been shot anyways. Better she get the answers she needed now. He knew she put in more than enough overtime, and she would no doubt be back before night, driven to find answers. "Drive carefully."

She offered him a brief smile and hurried away.

With Ducky paving the way, Abby quickly got to the rooms holding their team. Gibbs and Ziva had been assigned rooms next to one another.

"Gibbs!" Abby rushed into his room, quickly enveloping him in a hug. "Are you alright?" Only when she pulled away did she see a pretty blonde nurse in the room.

"I'm fine." Her silver-haired fox replied, frowning at the nurse. "As I was just trying to explain to this woman. And more than ready to get back to work. We've got paperwork waiting."

"Mr. Gibbs," the nurse said in an overly patient tone. "As I've tried to explain, you have a severe concussion. You blacked out and we'd like to keep you here to monitor you."

"I'll be surrounded by other agents. They'll notice if something's wrong." Gibbs waved away her concern. "Get me the papers, I want out of here."

There was a brief glaring contest between patient and nurse. Abby tried to hide a grin, thinking to herself that the woman might have had better luck if she'd been a redhead. Luckily, before anything happened, Ducky stepped in. "My dear lady, you must excuse Agent Gibbs. He gets a little testy in hospitals. Could you direct me to the doctor responsible for him? I'd like to speak with him."

As usual, Ducky's charm won out where Gibbs' force might not have. Within moments, the two were gone. "Gibbs, what happened?" Abby demanded, looking him over. He was still in his gear, a hospital gown thrown on the floor. There were rips and tears everywhere, with more than a little dried blood peeking through when skin was revealed. His face was scraped, though not bloody, with a bruise covering almost the whole left side.

"We walked right into a trap, thanks to the damn FBI's so-called 'intelligence'. Those terrorists were waiting for us. They immediately opened fire and tried to hit us with some homemade bomb. Tony and McGee went around back and were both hit. One of 'em snuck up, hit me with the butt of his gun. Ziva took him out, but not before I was slammed into the building. Not sure what happened to her, I was out by then. How're Tony and McGee? I know they were both sent to surgery."

"They are still… is it 'under the knife'?" The two of them turned to see Ziva, her tanned face framed by wild curls, limp into the room. "That is to say, still in surgery?"

"Yeah!" Abby grinned, amused as always when Ziva played around with idioms. As Abby had noticed lately, when Tony wasn't in the room, the sayings were generally correct. She'd always sort of suspected Ziva spent most of her time messing with her two partners. Amused as she was at more confirmation, she couldn't stay happy when hearing such news. "They're still in surgery?" She pouted abruptly. "Is that bad?"

"We haven't been here an hour yet." Gibbs said, glancing at the clock on the wall. "Both of them were rushed into surgery. Where the hell is the doctor?"

As if waiting for a cue, Ducky returned before Gibbs could grow too impatient. "Ah, Jethro, I've spoken with your doctor, a nice young lad. Reminds me of-" The three glares sent his way were sufficient to stop the story before it started. "Ah, perhaps not the time, hm? Anyways, you took a serious knock to your head, Jethro, the doctor is worried about the fact that you blacked out."

"I'm fine, Duck." Gibbs said impatiently. "Get me out of here. Ziva, what are you doing here? You were released?"

"Some woman kept speaking to me." Ziva waved a hand impatiently. "It was English, but nothing I was able to understand. It did not seem important to me and she refused to answer any of my questions, so I just left."

"Ziva!" Ducky exclaimed, horrified.

"Injuries?" Gibbs demanded at the same time.

She brushed her hair away from her face, revealing a bruise over her right temple. She too had some scrapes and bruises. "My ankle is a bit tender, but it will be fine. The only problem I had was my wrist. It was strained, but the doctor…splintered it?"

Abby giggled, gently taking Ziva's wrist to check the splint around it. Okay, so maybe it wasn't _totally_ an act. "He _splinted_ it." She noted. "Is that all?"

"He said something about a cast but not a cast." Ziva waved her free hand again, brushing away the confusion. "I feel fine with this. Are you leaving?" She asked Gibbs. "I would like to go as well. With one hand, my paperwork will take some time. I was planning on returning later to see Tony and McGee."

"You are not going anywhere with that splint!" Ducky finally overcame his shock to speak up. "I would like to look at your X-rays. Depending on how bad your wrist was strained, you may need at least an air cast."

"Yes, _air cast_." Ziva said, repeating the strange word silently to herself. "That is what the doctor spoke of. I feel comfortable with this…splint, however. I am fine." She said, turning to appeal to Gibbs.

"Jethro, she is going to cause more damage than is already done." Ducky warned.

Gibbs sighed, obviously torn.

"Ziva, an air cast won't take long to put on at all and it feels a lot better than that splint. You won't have to be as comfortable." Abby stepped in. "When I was taking a self-defense class a few years ago, they tried to teach us how to fall. I couldn't get it right and ended up hurting my wrist. They gave me an air cast and it worked great! It holds your wrist tight and you don't really notice it at all. I liked mine- decorated it with some pretty awesome pics and-"

She froze as Gibbs held a finger to her lips. "Abbs," he said warningly.

She grinned sheepishly, kissing his finger and holding up her hands in defeat. "Sorry, Bossman," she said, pulling his hand away and patting it. "You'll feel a lot better, Ziva." She said eagerly. "I know you think you're invincible, but I know it has to hurt. With the cast, you won't have to worry about moving your wrist."

She turned her earnest gaze on Gibbs and he sighed, caving in to her. He was rarely able to stand against those eyes and his head was pounding too much at the moment to even try. "Ziva, you'd better get back to your room before they raise some sort of alarm. Abbs, why don't you go keep Ziva company so you can keep her mind off the pain. Duck, get me released. Then we'll go see about the others."

He got three nods and they quickly left to follow orders. Only when they were gone did he allow himself to lie back against the pillows.

Left alone, Jethro closed his eyes. The room spun every time he tried to focus, not that he intended to let that stop him. He wanted this case closed, so that he could retreat to his basement and brood in silence.

How on earth had it gone so badly? Though he would have killed for a few aspirins, not to mention some bourbon, he didn't have time to rest. He had to figure out how he had managed to injure his _whole_ team in one go.

It had gone badly from the beginning. He should have known better than to trust the FBI. Doing his own intel was a must, it always had been. The urgency of this assignment, such a high-profile case with the television stations all blaring away about terrorists, had forced him to compromise, something he had always hated to do. And with good reason!

Look what Vance's paper-pushing had cost him! One of the best teams he had ever assembled under his command.

"Jethro?" Ducky interrupted his musings, appearing at the door with a young man wearing a lab coat. The man looked younger than McGee and that was saying something.

"Ah, Duck," Jethro had far too much practice in ignoring doctors. "Didja spring me?"

He hadn't failed to notice the stack of papers in Ducky's hands. It was not the first, nor would it be the last, that he left a hospital AMA.

Before Ducky could speak, however, the kid doctor decided he had the right to step in. "Mr. Gibbs, I-"

"_Agent_ Gibbs." Jethro didn't give a damn about his title, truth be told, but he had never liked the arrogant tone that most doctors, including Junior here, used to speak to their patients.

"Agent Gibbs," the boy repeated dutifully, sounding as if he were humoring Jethro. If could have gotten up without getting dizzy- which Ducky would absolutely not miss- he might have taken a swing at the boy. "I have to protest you leaving this soon."

"You go on and protest all you want." Jethro gestured impatiently for the papers that Ducky held. "I've heard everything _your kind_ has to say and none of it impresses me."

"Jethro," Ducky chastised him half-heartedly, handing over the papers.

Jethro wouldn't have apologized, even if he didn't have a rule against it. Especially as Duck was sporting a half-grin of his own at Jethro's words. Instead, he offered a brief shrug, grabbing a pen off the stand beside his pen and quickly scribbling his name.

"You're supposed to read through those papers, before you sign." The doctor said in a vain attempt at regaining control. "I have to talk to you about the consequences of your actions."

"I'm a big boy." Jethro said, tossing the pen and handing the papers back to his friend. "I know the risks. Thank you."

"I really must protest!" The doctor said, drawing himself up to his full height. "This is-"

"Ah, my boy, you'll have to forgive my friend." Ducky stepped in as Jethro's eyes narrowed at the boy. "You'll get to know these agent-types, stubborn the lot of them. Have no fear, I will keep a close eye on him."

It took Ducky only minutes to get the doctor to take the release forms and leave the room. He turned back as Jethro was struggling to his feet. "Oh, Jethro, what am I going to do with you?" He asked in frustration, quickly making his way to his friend's side.

Yeah, Jethro had known he wasn't going to be able to hide anything from his friend. "I dunno." He confessed. "Leave me to rot when you get sick of me, I suppose."

"Ha," Ducky grinned at his long-time friend. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? No, no, you're stuck with me. Come along, we'll go see to Abigail and Ziva."

With Ducky holding onto his arm, Jethro easily made the trip to Ziva's room. He had to smile at the picture his girls made. They were sitting side by side on Ziva's assigned bed, their feet swaying back and forth as they quietly spoke to one another. Both were ignoring the doctor who sat off to Ziva's other side, carefully examining the air-cast adorning her arm.

"Gibbs!" They both exclaimed as one as he came in the door.

"How are you?" Abby continued, looking him over carefully.

"'m fine." He said gruffly, pointing to Ziva's hand. "You?"

Ziva gave him a smile, surprising him as it was quite a bit larger than her usual reserved smile. "I am fine, Gibbs." She assured him, nodding briskly. "Let's go."

Abby grabbed Ziva's shoulder before she made it to her feet. "They gave her some medication for the pain." Abby said, smiling in amusement. "She's not feeling anything right now."

Lovely, a stoned Mossad officer, Jethro thought wryly. Nothing bad could happen with that.

"Is she free to go?" He asked.

He had directed the question to Ducky, as he did with all medical questions, but the doctor swung around to face him as he asked. The doctor was female; she had a no-nonsense look about her, from her tightly buttoned blouse to her pursed, unpolished lips. "She has signed herself out, against medical advice." The woman said, voice stiff with disapproval. "Though we would like to keep her overnight, to make sure the wrist isn't any worse than we initially thought."

"Ziva?" Jethro tried not to be a hypocrite. As she'd made the same decision he did, as long as Ducky didn't protest, he was fine with it. "Are you sure?"

"I am fine, Gibbs. More than ready to leave this place." The Israeli woman assured him.

"Okay, you heard the woman." Jethro said, dismissing the doctor without another thought. "So, Duck, what about McGee and Dinozzo?"

Jethro's good luck could not hold, he knew that, but that didn't mean he could hold back a wince as Ducky shook his head. "We can't see either of them," Ducky said, offering a small nod to the doctor as she swept angrily out of the room. "Tony is out of surgery. He was injured during the explosion. He was thrown to the ground, but was pelted with quite a bit of the building rubble. His left leg was broken in three places, two gunshot wounds, and his right knee badly bruised. His leg has been straightened and set in a cast, but they're worried about his lungs. He breathed in a lot of dust and, until he was pulled free of the rubble, he had a considerable weight on his chest. They wanted to keep him calm, so they gave him enough drugs to let him sleep the rest of the day."

"What about Timmy?" Abby asked what Jethro couldn't bring himself to ask. Ducky always started with the good news, which could mean nothing good for McGee.

"There have been complications with Timothy, I'm afraid." Ducky said, smiling softly. "He too suffered from quite a few hits when the building blew, but his surgery was focused around the gunshot wound he suffered. It hit his chest, just above his heart. There were several complications in his surgery, which is why it is not yet finished."

"He will be alright." Ziva stated, rather than asked. She glared at Ducky, as if daring him to say otherwise.

"They are hopeful." Ducky said, offering the woman a warmer smile. "Timothy is a strong young man, in great shape, and the wound probably wouldn't have been so bad if it hadn't been complicated by the explosion you were all caught in. The surgery is almost complete and Timothy will be moved to a room. I have spoken to Dr. Pitt and as he wants to watch both Timothy and Anthony regarding their lungs, I was able to convince him to room them together. That way, at least you will only have one room to visit. I am afraid they will both be here longer than a night."

"We can't even look in on Tony? He'll be heart-broken that we ignored him!" Abby protested.

"Nonsense." Ducky said, shaking his head at the young woman. "He's in a deep sleep at the minute. You can come back later."

She looked ready to protest, but Jethro stepped in. "Enough." He growled, giving his favorite lab rat a glare that she cheekily ignored. "Duck is right, coming back tomorrow will be soon enough. Abbs, why don't you take Ziva home."

"No, Gibbs." Ziva protested at once. "I have nothing to do at home and the adrenaline is still squeezing through my veins. I will return to NCIS and begin my paperwork. If Abby will drive me there?" She raised her eyebrows questioningly at the other woman.

"Of course, Ziva." Abby said cheerfully, ignoring Gibbs as he glared. "I have some more work to do in my lab. You can work down there with me and then we'll come back later to see our boys."

"Would you like a ride back, Ducky?" Ziva asked. "Or will you remain with Gibbs?"

"I-"

"He'll be riding back with you." Gibbs overruled whatever Ducky might have said. "You girls take care of him. He's the only doctor I can handle. Duck, you make sure these two do sleep sometime tonight."

Ducky stared at Jethro, reading his soul, Jethro was always sure, but finally nodded. "I too have some paperwork that I have regretfully fallen behind in since young Mr. Palmer has been busy with his midterms. We'll return later, Jethro. I expect you to find a place to sit down and not cause the nurses any trouble." He said warningly.

"Sure, Duck, sure." Jethro promised half-heartedly.

After seeing the others off, Jethro did as ordered, finding Tony's room and taking the stiff, uncomfortable chair opposite of his door. He sat there, waiting for the aspirin he'd smuggled out of Abby to kick in, before making his move. Orders or no orders, he had to go see his senior field agent. His heart had been running double time since he'd heard that their Probie was still under the knife. He needed the reassurance of seeing Tony. God forbid the Italian wake sooner than the doctors thought he would- as he had a bad habit of doing- and not have access to any information. He would be even more devastated that Jethro was- Tim was _his_ Probie, after all.

Tony was a dark-skinned man, from both his Italian heritage as well as his tanning habits, only losing out to Ziva for darkness, especially considering his usual contrast to the computer geek McGee and the half-vampiress Abby. It was only when he was in a hospital, surrounded by sterile whiteness that he looked pale to Gibbs. He looked extremely pale now, motionless except for the slight rise and fall of his chest. He was dressed in one of the hospital gowns he so hated and his left leg was plastered in a long white cast that went well above his knee and was propped up by several pillows.

His paleness was offset by the myriad bruises covering his face and exposed arms, as well as several shallow cuts that looked recently treated.

Jethro hated it. Every bruise, every cut, every broken bone was because of him. He'd made the decision to move out, in spite of not liking their position. Fornell had pressured him, Vance had pressured him, but ultimately he'd made the decision.

He let himself in, quickly closing the door behind him, and made his way to Tony's side. "Jesus, Dinozzo." He muttered, shaking his head. One of the best agents he'd ever trained, broken and bruised because of his actions. If ever there was a time to change his mind about apologies…

He wasn't sure how long he stood there, but all of a sudden the door flew open and a half dozen people wheeled Tim McGee in. The team around him efficiently wheeled him in beside Tony and began hooking him up to the machines waiting around. Jethro had no doubt he would've been thrown out unceremoniously if not for the doctor who just walked through the door, Dr. Brad Pitt.

"Gibbs." The younger man walked over, offering a hand to Jethro. Jethro gravely shook the younger man's hand, amused as always at the wary glances the young doctor gave him. It wasn't often that a command inspired a man to live, but Gibbs' order to Dinozzo had impressed the doctor in front of him every bit as much as it had impressed Tony. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine." Jethro brushed the question off. His injuries were barely a concern even before he'd seen his boys. Now, they weren't even worth mentioning. "How's Tim? How's Tony?"

Brad Pitt was, above all, a smart man. He knew better than to try to get anything out of Gibbs and to merely follow along with his questions if he didn't want the Glare directed at him. "They're both going to be fine. Tony will up and complaining about his cast in no time. He managed to re-break the leg I took out all those years ago, rather spectacularly, if I do say so. I'm a little concerned about his lungs, but no more than the last time he had the flu. As for Tim, he will be fine. He's gonna need some PT to make sure he doesn't lose any mobility in his left arm. The surgery was complicated a little, when some nerves were cut into, but he should make a full recovery. They come stubborn on your team, and that counts for a lot."

"Not if I keep leading them to their doom." Jethro muttered darkly, turning back to study his men. He was used to the two of them in their dark, somber suit jackets more often than anything else. White was neither man's color. "Thanks, Brad." He said after a moment. "How long do I have until they kick me out?"

Brad had been a doctor long enough to know that some things were more important than regulations. "You sit down, as I haven't missed you weaving around, and if you can keep from aggravating the nurses I think I can convince them you're just a piece of furniture." He offered, pulling a chair from its position against the wall to sit between the two beds. "Now. Sit."

Though Gibbs wasn't feeling nearly as dizzy now as he had when he'd left his own hospital room, he wasn't as steady on his feet as he'd have liked to have been, so he took the seat. "Thanks."

He kept vigil, watching the two men he thought of as his own boys throughout the night, keeping a keen eye on each and every nurse that came in. One of them tried to suggest he take a bed himself, but a few sharp words sent her scurrying away with a warning for the rest of the nurses. It got him a scolding from Brad, when he came to check on the boys before going off-shift.

Of course, Gibbs had always been cursed by the few doctors he could stand all being annoyingly helpful doctors. He wasn't surprised when, at barely 7 in the morning, Ducky returned to forcefully eject him from the room. "You worrying yourself sick isn't going to help either one of those boys," the Scottish man scolded his friend as he headed towards the cafeteria. "I don't care how invincible you think you are, you were injured yesterday. Ziva's pills knocked her out barely an hour after going back to Headquarters. She spent the night on Abigail's futon. If I know, you stubborn ass, you didn't even try to leave last night. Did you?"

"Why do you ask questions you don't want answers to?" Jethro knew it was impossible to stop Ducky, but he was always amused by the attempt.

Predictably, Ducky pounced on his teasing words. "Because, I hope one day to force into that pigheaded mind of yours how dangerous your behaviors are."

Maybe Jethro hadn't had enough sleep, maybe the pain seeping back into his system was getting to him, but all of a sudden, the game wasn't fun anymore. "I know how dangerous I am, Duck." He said, scowling. "Did you get a good look at those two boys back there? I did a number on them. Ziva too, I should just be glad I didn't offer Abby up for the FBI to just lob at terrorists for fun."

Ducky had known Jethro for far too long to be upset or even surprised by the sudden change of mood. "Come on," he said, patting Jethro's arm. "Let's go get some caffeine into you."

The two settled at a small, out of the way table in the cafeteria, nursing drinks. Ducky had gotten a tea for himself and the largest cup of coffee they had for Jethro, but he was already too late. Jethro had spent the night worrying and now that someone else was here to make sure the boys were alright, he slipped right into to brooding. It was Jethro's fault, it always was.

"Jethro, this self-hatred of yours really has to stop." Ducky sighed. "No one could have predicted this could have happened. It surprised the FBI, it surprised us. Bad things happen sometimes and not just because the universe hates you."

"Duck, I knew better. I led them into danger because I let the pressure get to me. I should have demanded Vance let my team do our own surveillance." Jethro said, shuddering at the memories. "I knew it, from the minute we suited up, that something was wrong. But Fornell was so gung-ho ready."

Ducky smiled grimly. "And he's regretting his actions even more than you are." He said firmly. "We got lucky- for all our injuries, NCIS suffered no fatalities. Fornell lost two men last night in that explosion. He's kicking himself right now- as he should be. He was in charge of that mess last night. I know you hate to give yourself any excuse, but you were following orders."

Jethro gulped down his coffee, trying to hide the sorrow he felt for his old friend. "Looking at my team, I'm thinking this is another time when I should have told Vance where he could shove his orders. My team comes first, Duck, it should. Tonight I didn't put it first and look what happened."

"Jethro, you're not Superman. Despite what your team thinks, you have no special powers. Sometimes, you just can't stop the bad things from happening." Ducky said, his stern demeanor keeping Jethro from protesting. "You have a hero complex beyond almost anything I've ever seen, but this has to stop. You aren't getting any younger and you can't just ignore your injuries because you're feeling guilty. Do you understand me?"

"My team depends on me." Jethro did offer a protest, despite the truth in Ducky's words. That chair had been one of the most uncomfortable ones he'd ever sat in and he could feel each and every bruise he'd gained yesterday.

"Your team worships you." Ducky corrected, not in the mood to sugarcoat the truth. "Because you work so hard to keep them out. You hide all of your weaknesses, focusing on them instead. That isn't healthy and it sure isn't going to work for much longer. Sooner or later, they're going to realize you aren't immortal. Surely you realize that."

"I'm not trying to be anything." Jethro said stiffly.

"Yes, you are!" Ducky exclaimed, laughing bitterly. "You're their Boss, the one they always count on to save the day."

"What's wrong with that?" Jethro scowled at the realization that Ducky wasn't going to drop the issue.

"Nothing, if you want to set those kids up for an even greater fall later. You're a team. Yes, you're the leader, but you're meant to function as a team. You love those children and all of NCIS knows it. Hell, the FBI knows it. But you don't trust them. How do you think it makes them feel when you take responsibility for all of their mistakes? How are they supposed to grow as agents if you claim responsibility for all of their errors?" Ducky demanded.

"Don't start that again." Jethro rolled his eyes. "They didn't fail anything today. I did. I damn near sent them to their deaths."

"Yeah, but for all of the mistakes today, your team managed to assist in capturing a cell of terrorists." Ducky said. "If they can't claim their mistakes, how do they claim their successes?"

"They can have all the damn successes they want." Jethro had never cared to claim them, as DiNozzo knew especially. "But I refuse to make this disaster about those three."

"They could have protested." Ducky said. "All of them have faced up to you whenever they felt it necessary. If they could stand up to you, they surely could stand up to Vance. But no, they are so used to blindly following you-"

"My men don't blindly follow anyone!" Jethro interrupted. "Not even me! Not anymore. I lost enough of their trust, when I ran off to Mexico. I'm not going to let them lose anymore."

"Don't." Ducky couldn't have been more pleased by their conversation. "Embrace your team. You aren't some Lone Ranger, though I know all too often you think like that. Use your team and all of their strengths. The team still isn't as cohesive as it once was. Build up a new trust, amongst every member of your team."

Jethro sighed. Ducky was right, of course. He always was. "How exactly am I supposed to do that?"

"Jethro, those children love that you think of them as yours. That is the worst kept secret in NCIS. But you can' _just_ think of them as children. They look up to you, but use that to mold them. Don't protect them by hiding things from them. Acknowledge the collective mistake and the collective successes. When they wake up, don't start telling them how _you_ messed up. They did as well. Your _team_ messed up. Tell them you can't wait for them to get better and that you're all going to have to make sure something like that doesn't happen again."

Ducky fell silent, letting Jethro gulp his coffee in peace, hoping beyond hope that something would sink in this time where it hadn't before.

Jethro sighed, before finally smirking. "I dunno, Duck. I think being a hero might have been easier."

Ducky laughed, happy as always when Jethro's humor returned. "I never said it would be easy. But you're a Marine. Marines don't do easy. You can make this team even greater than it was before. Let's be honest, you'll always be a hero to those three. A father is always a hero to his children. That doesn't mean you have to be perfect. Even heroes have the right to bleed."

This was entered in the NFA's _Heroes Have The Right to Bleed _Challenge. It's my first attempt at NCIS, so please forgive any mistakes. For anyone still waiting for my HP fics, I promise the next chapters are coming.


End file.
